


Badge of Honour

by mrsprobie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Good Percy Weasley, He always loved that badge so much, Percy Weasley learns a lesson, Percy Weasley-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25752835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsprobie/pseuds/mrsprobie
Summary: Percy's pride and joy was his prefect badge. When his sister came to harm her first year, he swore he would do better by that badge. He carried it for years after, a constant reminder of his duty to keep his family safe above all else. Even when they didn't agree with him.
Relationships: Fred Weasley & Percy Weasley
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	Badge of Honour

Percy Weasley had never felt failure this way before. At sixteen, he knew that he hadn’t much life experience, but he had always thought of himself as _competent_. As someone responsible, as someone who could keep an eye on the younger years, maybe keep them in line, but above all, be there for support. Someone who could help people and keep them safe. 

He sat in the center of his four-poster bed, the scarlet surrounding him somehow suffocating in its warmth. He had failed his sister, and his house, and Hogwarts, and his… Penelope. He fingered his Prefect’s Badge, spinning it round and round. He didn’t deserve it anymore. He should hand it in to Professor McGonagall with a formal apology. He had no idea what to say to Penelope. If he’d just noticed his sister… but he thought she was homesick! How was he supposed to know? 

A sharp stabbing sensation in his hand drew him out of his thoughts. He unfurled his hand to look at its palm. He was bleeding. The blood was a much deeper red than his duvet and bed hangings. He was glad to be heading back to the Burrow, with the same pale yellow bedding he’d had since childhood. Normally he resented the old quilt, that he couldn’t get a new one, but he would be embracing it this summer, he knew. A far cry from the damned _scarlet_ surrounding him, reminding him of what he had done. Colin Creevey, for Merlin’s sake... No, at the Burrow he would have only one reminder, albeit a living, breathing reminder, of his colossal failure. 

His family were in Egypt when it -- or rather _they_ \-- arrived. The letters were sent individually this year, for some unknown reason. The veritable swarm of owls required for the Weasley brood could be seen well before they reached their camp. Percy felt his chest tighten, and the murmur of conversation around the table seemed to fade away behind the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. 

If McGonagall asked for his badge back, he had decided, he would claim to have lost it. She already had to think him impossibly incompetent, entirely foolish. It would be believable. Besides, the school _had_ to have extras. He hoped. He needed the badge as a reminder, to pay more attention, to protect his family and his house. He would do anything to keep them safe, and the constant feel of the badge in his pocket would remind him at every moment. He couldn’t give it back. 

The swarm having finally reached them, a great horned owl did circles above the Weasleys’ caravan before swooping sharply down. Ginny screeched as it dove straight for her, and Percy’s heart stopped and his hand jumped to his wand. After all the -- but then the owl curved back up, simply dropping a letter in Ginny’s breakfast. _Great aim._ His sister pouted, but didn’t seem too genuinely upset. A bit of bacon grease was on the back, but nothing unmanageable. 

The next to receive their letter was Ron, who pulled a face as the owl dove towards him but managed to catch the letter just before it reached his porridge. “Bloody bird,” he muttered. 

“Language,” Percy admonished simultaneously with his mother. He gave her a sideways glance, and he felt that she looked rather pleased. He _had_ been trying to keep on her good side this summer, to keep his siblings in line and healthy. To make up for… well. 

Fred and George each managed to pluck a letter from an owl’s grip, getting a resentful hoot for their work. They traded immediately, apparently having picked out each other’s. Percy wasn’t sure why it mattered; they were taking all the same classes. 

He looked to the sky for his letter and was astonished to see a larger parcel than his siblings had received. “What?” was all he could say, dumb and unable to move as his owl dove down at him. Ron, who was sitting at his side, flinched away. The bird didn’t drop its package like the others did, instead landing in the middle of Percy’s plate of breakfast and extending its leg almost regally. 

“Well, open it!” Ron demanded, and Percy was able to move again. He untied the parcel and pulled out what seemed to be a normal Hogwarts letter -- _Percy Weasley, The Caravan, Cairo, Egypt_ \-- and a small box covered in deep scarlet wrapping paper. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Was this really? 

He peeled back the wrapping paper with shaking hands. It was. It was! He looked wildly around the table, grinning like a madman. “I’m Head Boy!” 

His mother squealed at such a high pitch that their father poked his head out of his tent (Merlin knew what he was working on in there) with wide eyes. “What’s happened, Molly?” 

“I’m Head Boy!” he repeated, dimly aware that he was yelling but he couldn’t help it! He was Head Boy! Professor McGonagall still trusted him -- Professor Dumbledore still trusted him! He would be better this year! He wouldn’t let anything happen to his house, or to anyone! 

“A Head Boy in the family!” his mother raved as his father rushed out of the tent and embraced Percy firmly. 

“Congratulations, Percy,” said his father, rapping his fist against Percy’s back several times. “We knew you could do it.” 

They did? Looking around at his siblings, and the utter lack of surprise in their expressions, he supposed that maybe they did. 

He hoped that he wouldn’t have to give back his first badge to keep the second. 

Another year, another of his promises _ruined_. Another year, another instance of Harry bloody Potter putting Percy’s family in mortal peril. His parents refused to see it, the horrible influence that boy was on Ron and Ginny. He may have saved them, but what did that count for when he was the one that put them in danger in the first place? 

When it came down to it, Percy was willing and able to do what his family couldn’t: think clearly about the Potter situation. Without the emotional attachment that the others had to the boy (and for some reason, they _were_ attached to him), he could see that Potter was a raving lunatic. The Minister himself agreed! It was truly embarrassing to be attached to his family name when his father insisted on making a complete arse of himself by supporting some insane child. A fifteen-year-old boy insistent that he’d fought the Dark Lord? Minister Fudge had scoffed at the very idea. 

So Potter hadn’t lied. The boy was still _mad_ and insistent on putting Percy’s family in danger. Well, he wasn’t having any part of it. 

As the Minister looked over the papers Percy had organized and annotated, Percy let his hand slip into one of his robes pockets. The face of his prefect badge was worn completely smooth from everyday carrying, in stark contrast with the three-dimensional design he knew his younger brother’s still had. By all accounts, his brother had been a mediocre prefect that year. Probably the Potter idiot’s influence. 

Potter had been right. 

Percy was gutted. He’d been so sure of the Ministry’s position, so sure that he was doing the right thing. He squeezed his old prefect badge tightly, the edges too worn to bring forth the familiar stabbing pain. It was for the best. He had to get these people out of here. 

Three Muggleborns, huddling together like prisoners -- because they _were_ prisoners, he knew suddenly. He knew what cases were heard here, and he had let himself think that it was only true criminals who were being heard on these questionable charges. It was still justice, only roundabout. 

But he knew that little Maggie Clearwater was no criminal. Penelope’s youngest sister was crouched down next to an elderly man who seemed to be no visible threat whatsoever. These people weren’t getting justice at all. 

He had let this happen, he was complicit. He dropped the badge in his pocket and drew out his wand. The prisoners closest to him tried to back away, the movement clumsy thanks to the shackles around their feet. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said shamefacedly, quietly. If he hadn’t been lost in thought, if he hadn’t taken a wrong turn... “I didn’t know -- I’m going to help.” The excuse sounded weak to his own ears, but his grip on his wand tightened. He needed a plan. “You,” he said, pointing out a man who couldn’t be older than twenty. “Your name?” 

“Ronald Shirkington,” the man said, and it stung to think of his own brother, out there somewhere fighting and putting his life on the line while Percy, what, ranted about administrative preferences while people died? _Without rules, everything’s chaos,_ he remembered telling his brother. _Potter needs to let the people in charge be in charge. You can’t get what you want by going around the process._ And here’s where the process had gotten Mr. Shirkington.

“Alright, Shirkington,” he said, the pain too sharp to call the young man Ronald. “I’m going to lead you out of this wing and to a side exit. You’re going to be released due to an administrative mix-up.” He could find some rule, easily, that would make holding these people illegal, or at least reflect poorly enough on the Ministry for it to be best handled extrajudicially. Yes, extrajudicially… Dolores would like that. 

“Where do we go?” Maggie asked from behind Shirkington, visibly shivering. It was warm, they must have been starving… or recently exposed to Dementors, Percy thought sharply. The elderly man had worse than no wits about him, and for a moment Percy feared the worst, but he was able to walk, which the Kissed couldn’t do, as far as he knew.

“I’ll take you somewhere,” he said, his mind casting about wildly for a solution. He’d find one on the way. Two quick Disillusionment charms on the woman and older man later, and he was hissing for them to hold on to each other and Shirkington. The way out of this wing shouldn’t hold any crowds, it would be fine. 

They had just made it out of the wing and almost to an alley exit when the distant sound of Aurors running echoed down the corridor. “I can’t take you anywhere, there’s no time” he hissed quickly. “Listen to me, you have to run. You have to get as far away from here as you can. No, somewhere safe. Go to --” what was the rumor he’d heard? A pub harboring fugitives… “Go to the Hog’s Head, in Hogsmeade!” He knew they could find Hogsmeade, at the very least. 

“How are we supposed to get there?” asked Maggie, and she startled when he whipped his wand out. 

“Apparate. Is either of you strong enough to Side-Along him? You’ll be using others’ wands,” he warned. 

“I can do it,” Shirkington said. 

Percy nodded. “I hope so.” He turned to wait for the first of the Aurors to cross the corner, and when one did, he hit him with the strongest _Expelliarmus_ he thought he’d ever produced in his entire life. 

“Weasley!” the Auror screamed, and Percy knew he was screwed. 

Turning around, he pushed his wand into Shirkington’s palm and the Auror’s into Maggie’s. “ _Go,_ ” he said forcefully. 

Thankfully, the two were quick on their feet, sprinting out into the Muggle alley and towards the street, where the anti-Apparition wards would logically end. Percy could have cried in relief when they disappeared into thin air. 

He _did_ cry a bit when the hexes started hitting him in the back. 

_Honorably removed from the Minister’s office._ He laughed when he read the letter, unable to stop even when it became hard to breathe, hoping desperately that no one had followed the letter to watch him. That’s what happened when you let yourself get _Imperio_ ’d by a dangerous prisoner, he supposed. He’d given the Aurors a sob story that barely made sense about how the horrible _Mudbloods_ (he had laid it on thick) must have had a stolen wand, as they’d used the Unforgivable to control him from the moment he wandered into the waiting room they were in for their court dates. 

Having been such an aggressive defender of the Ministry and Ministers for several years, he was (thank Merlin) questioned and released with disgust but no Veritaserum. 

He was out of his blessed job, and he had never been happier. 

He wasn’t sure until a week later that the escapees had successfully made it to the Hog’s Head. He received no contact from them, but did receive a carefully worded letter from the pub’s owner, Aberforth Dumbledore, mentioning that some friends of Percy’s were off on an extended vacation with their grandfather and wanted him to know. Percy wrote a polite, if stiff, letter in return saying that he was happy to hear that, that he was grateful to Aberforth for passing their word along, and that he was not much one for post, so there was no need to send more letters.

That _was_ the only letter he’d ever receive from Aberforth Dumbledore, but one evening in June, a Patronus burst through Percy’s wall that proclaimed itself to be Aberforth’s. The pumpkin juice spilled down the front of his shirt was nearly forgotten as Percy took in the goat's words. 

A battle, at Hogwarts! He needed to go! He tossed away his damp shirt and summoned a new one, a black one for stealth he supposed. There was no questioning if he would go. He owed it to his family, to Hogwarts, to Penelope and to every other person who had been targeted by the Ministry during his time there. 

He began to turn in place to Apparate to Hogsmeade and almost fell to the floor in his effort to stop himself. “ _Accio_ badge,” he called out, and his prefect badge came zipping out of his cloak by the door and right into his hand. His Head Boy badge sat pristine and still in its display case on one of his shelves. His magic knew which badge he meant. Now he could Apparate away. 

In the midst of battle, he found himself fighting alongside his brothers. They were better fighters than him, more creative and faster, but he chose to believe his broad lexicon of spells was helping him hold his own. 

Suddenly, a particularly special target came along, and Percy dove viciously towards him. 

“Hello, Minister!” bellowed Percy, sending a neat jinx straight at Thicknesse, who dropped his wand and clawed at the front of his robes, apparently in awful discomfort. “I never got to say goodbye, but this’ll do!” 

“You’re joking, Perce!” shouted Fred as the Death Eater he was battling collapsed under the weight of three separate Stunning Spells. Thicknesse had fallen to the ground with tiny spikes erupting all over him; he seemed to be turning into some form of sea urchin. Fred looked at Percy with glee.

“You actually are joking, Perce… I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were --”

 _“Protego!”_ Percy screamed with all his might, throwing himself towards his brother to shield him as well. The air exploded and Percy was blinded. He heard the screams and yells of his companions without a hope of knowing what had happened to them -- except Fred. All he knew was the comforting sensation of his brother’s chest rising and falling beneath him. _He was alive, he was alive, he was_

“Percy!” “Fred!” Voices were calling for them, he realized. 

And then the world resolved itself into pain and semidarkness. Cold air told him that the side of the castle had been blown away, but he was alive, and Fred was alive. He pushed himself up off the ground and stood, then pulled his brother up by his arm. 

“Bloody hell, Perce, you didn’t have to tackle me,” his brother said dazedly, but he was _alive_. 

Percy reached into his pocket once again, hoping desperately that it hadn’t fallen out -- the pockets were charmed, but that was one hell of an explosion. It was still there, of course, and he squeezed his prefect badge tightly one more time before steeling himself for more battle. He had a duty to Hogwarts, after all. 


End file.
